After the Gold
by DH78
Summary: This little story was born out of late night Twitter conversations and gushing over Meryl & Charlie, the fabulous American gold medal ice dancers. We ship them. Spangly wanted it written. So it shall be done. So can childhood friends become more? We say HELL YES.
1. Prologue

**I swore I wouldn't write anything new until I finished BoV and/or my OF novella. I really did. I was doing so well. Then Spanglemaker, Mizzen and I ship Meryl & Charlie- the gorgeous, cute-as-can-be ice dancing gold medalists, and start dreaming of cute little ice dancing babies. Spangly wanted a fic. They strong-armed me, I tell you! They basically forced me. That's my story. **

**This will be short. Maybe about 4-5 chapters, give or take. Thank you for humoring us on our flights of fancy and our need to HEA these two... at least in our fic minds.**

**There is no beta to this, since this is really just for shits and giggles. All mistakes are mine, so no grammar nazis, please! :)**

**Twilight belongs to SM. I think we know this by now. Cheryl & Charlie probably know how much the world wants them to breed, but there is no intent to use their likeness or personalities for this. Just sayin'. Off we go!...**

* * *

Prologue

The noise of the crowd is deafening. The place is vibrating with this frenetic energy that's contagious. I've just skated the routine of my career. We've just skated the performance of our careers. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him and vice versa. As the first notes of our national anthem echoes through the arena, I can't see my family crying and beaming in the stands, as I imagine they must be right now. I can't see our coach glowing with pride. I can't even remember the freaking choreography of what we just skated- a routine we've skated to death for a whole year. No.

The heavy, rapid thump of my heart is rushing in my ears, but it's not from wearing the dream of gold around my neck. No.

It's the memory of what happened last night. What's _been_ happening for God knows how long, I just refused to see it. As the last notes play and the crowd roars to life, his hand rests warm on the small of my back, like it always has. Always, since we were eight— reassuring and comforting.

Now, not so much. Now it's fire and igniting something I can't name because it never needed to be named. It just was. The fire was the comfort. I'm such an idiot.

He leans into me, warm mouth to my ear. I can't describe anything anymore, but that sensation...

"We need to talk." I can feel his deeply intense green stare on my face as he pulls away a bit, but I'm paralyzed.

I can't bear to look at him as I force a smile on my face and raise my small bouquet and wave at the energetic crowd, feeling like I'll be swallowed up whole either by their joy, or by the man next to me who was for so long just a boy. My best friend.

I want to simultaneously run away and be devoured until I'm absorbed in this feeling forever.

* * *

**A/N: Regular chapters will be a little longer so don't judge by this prologue ;) There's no posting schedule. I'll post as I finish them... I'm already 1/2 way done with Chapter 2 :)**

**Hope you stick around! xoxo**


	2. Chapter one

**Aw, you guys are great. Thanks so much for the wonderful turn-out! I hope you stick around!**

**No beta, like I've mentioned. This is just for fun, so all mistakes are mine. Be nice.**

**SM owns everything, except this plot.**

* * *

_One Month Before..._

.

"Again! Again, again!"

"Jesus, Christ. She's trying to kill me," he mutters.

I'm panting, hands on knees as I coast around the rink, trying to get my breathing under control. I can see him negotiating that last turn over in his mind, the scrunch of his eyebrows drawn together like he's trying to broker world peace. I'm beat. Considering we've been at this for about two hours without a break, I'm surprised I'm still standing, let alone skating. I wince as I feel the tender bump on my left hip that will most definitely be black and blue tomorrow. Esme decided to add just a teensy element of difficulty to our routine, and I'm paying the price since I'm the one that gets thrown around. Seeing Edward frustrated with himself, I circle around him until I'm within touching distance, speaking low so Esme can't hear us.

"Relax, okay? You're over-thinking it. You have to attack that turn a little more organically, if not you'll look stiff and I won't reach my mark." I squeeze his forearms gently, trying to make him loosen up a bit. He's not looking at me, instead focussing on the etchings from our blades interlaced on the ground, forming highways and ribbons of cut ice. I duck my head and force his eyes to meet mine, smiling encouragingly.

"Hey, you okay?" I ask.

"I don't over-thing things," he mumbles reluctantly.

"Aw, that's cute. You do. You always have. Remember what happened at Nationals last year?"

"That was totally not me over-thinking. That was just a simple miscalculation. I was there too early, you were there too late." He turns up his straight Cullen nose, daring me to argue.

"Okay. Fine. If you say so. God, you're moody today. Time of the month again?"

Edward snorts, grabbing my waist back into starting position. He smiles reluctantly, but I know I've once again managed to take his mind off our failings. Turning me to face away from him, my back to his front, his arm snakes around me, his warm hand resting on my good hip.

"No, not this week. But wait," he stops to pinch the fat at my waist. "I thought you felt a little heavier. Water weight maybe? You know you really need to lay off the salty nuts." I gasp as he tickles my sides. The snarky fucker. My squeels echo through the empty rink as I try to unsuccessfully poke him in the side and in one moment, it's like we're ten again.

"Kids! I haven't got all day. Let's get this in the bag, I'm hungry."

I hear and feel Edward's grumble and hold in a giggle. Usually, watching mother and son go at it is kind of scary, but since we're so close to Sochi and are pretty much just polishing up the rough transitions in our free skate, I can finally find the humor... kind of. If we don't get this turn combo down, it might get very interesting between them.

"Settle down, Edward. This is what you get for having your mom as our coach," I remind him as Esme claps her hands and counts out the intro bars. He doesn't have time to reply as we let the music guide our movements. By now, we're a well-oiled machine and we're floating through even the more complicated side-by-side turns and lifts.

"Excellent... and...one...two...and...turn! Yes! Good. Okay, stop. I'm hungry and your father's waiting for us." Esme skates over to us, ruffling Edward's longish copper waves like he's still her little boy, sweaty from after school hockey practice. Edward's never bothered by it— just gives the requisite eye roll, but I can see the twitch of a smirk. Yes. He's finally pleased with our progress.

"I'd love to join you guys, but Peter should be here any minute to pick me up," I tell mother and son, putting away my skates and throwing my hoodie over my head. When my head pokes out, I see Edward's eyes flash to mine. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was annoyed.

If I didn't know better...

But I _do_ know him and he _is_ annoyed. I know everything about this guy, and _that_ was annoyance. I give him a _what the fuck is wrong with you_ look he knows damn well too. He just shrugs and rakes his fingers through his hair, pushing away to do another cool down around the rink.

"Well, that's alright dear, but you know Peter is always welcome to join us," Esme says, staring warily at her son, smoothing over the obvious awkwardness suddenly in the air.

"Oh, I know, Esme. But he's got this work thing and I have to race home and make myself presentable," I say apologetically. My eyes slide over to the dark figure of Edward's tall frame still making rounds. I can see him sulking from here. What the hell is up with him? I know he doesn't really get a long with Peter, they're miles apart in... well, just about everything, but really? We've been dating for almost a year, you'd think he'd at least _try_ to be civil.

Just as I'm starting to work myself up in a huff, the man in question saunters in.

"Where's my pretty girl?" Peter's voice is loud in the empty arena. I turn and smile just as I hear the sound of ice being cut into a sudden stop. I can feel Edward's stare on the back of my head, and if I don't get out of here soon, there's no telling what barbs these two will exchange. _Stupid old pissing contest. _

Peter grabs me by the waist and kisses me solidly on the lips. He has a presence about him, and although not as tall and imposing as Edward, Peter's black hair and bright blue eyes are enough to stop anyone in their tracks. He's already in an oxford and black dress pants and i can see he's in a rush to get away.

"Mrs. C., looking stunning as ever," he greets her, bowing slightly. He lifts his head to peer at Edward. "Hey, Edward."

No response. I swear, he's such a baby sometimes.

"Hello, Peter. Don't you look dashing. Off to another work function?" Esme asks politely, but like her son, I sense a tinge of _something_ under it.

"You know it, Mrs. C. We're a very popular couple among my colleagues. It's just another side to my work. Luckily, I get to show this beautiful girl off, so I can't complain," he says, kissing my forehead.

"Ready to go, baby?" Peter asks, visibly anxious to leave.

"Yeah, let me just get my stuff, I'll meet you by the car."

"You got it," he says, making a clicking noise with his mouth and tongue, and pointing his fingers like guns.

I turn to kiss Esme goodbye and as she heads out, I see Edward glowering at Peter's retreating form. I've had enough. "Hey!" I shout at him, waving him over. He hesitates a moment before skating in lazy strides towards me. When he's finally in front of me I smile.

"What the hell is your problem?" I say through my tense grin.

Edward pulls an innocent face that he must know doesn't work with me, and shrugs.

"What do you mean?"

I take a deep, cleansing breath.

"I _mean_... must you always act like Peter took your favorite toy?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Bella."

"Yes, you do."

"No... I don't," he mimics me. "I just don't understand why he seems to want to pull you away from your friends and your family all the friggin' time. I mean, would it kill him to include himself in our family time?"

I snort. "What, so all of you can patronize him and snicker behind his back? You know damn well between Em, Aly and you, it's one inside joke after the other." Edward's about to protest before I cut him off. "Don't even pretend to say that you guys don't do that. Even Dad jumps in on occasion, taking his cues from the Cullen Crew.

"Hey, if Mr. Pretty Boy Lawyer can't take a little jibe here and there, that's not my problem." Edward lowers his chin to hide a smirk and I want to be mad at him, but I can't bring myself to feel it. Edward's my best friend, his family my second one. I have to suppress my grin so as not to encourage him, so I shake my head disapprovingly.

"Edward. I really don't want this to be a thing. You and your family mean a lot to me. But Peter is in my life, whether you all like it or not. I chose him.

"You sure about that? Edward raises his head and asks suddenly.

It takes me a moment.

"What? What's the supposed to mean?"

"I mean, I'm pretty certain he picked you and you just went along for the ride, like you always do..."

"What are you—"

"You're too agreeable. Always have been. Always trying to make everyone else happy, do what you think is expected. I wish you'd make choices for yourself, that's all." He takes a deep breath, nodding once.

"Are you done?"

"I could keep going," he says, his stare a little too much for me right now.

"Don't bother. I think you've said enough.

Just then, the double doors to the rink open, Peter poking his head in, already looking a little tense. "Baby, what are you doing? We have to go. I don't want to be late. It's a big night for me." And just like that he's gone.

I look at the closed doors and wonder how I got here.

"Bella—"

"I said, spare me," walking towards the door and not wanting to look back.

Unfortunately, I can't resist and look over my shoulder. Edward's forehead is pressed up against the plexiglass, his green eyes saying a thousand things I can't even begin to translate.

I walk out without another word.

.

.

.


	3. Chapter two

**Thanks for your patience and thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews! I can't reply to them, but just know I read every single one.**

**No beta. All mistakes are mine. And this is just for fun, so be nice.**

**SM owns everything, except this plot. **

* * *

_Second day after arriving in Sochi. A week before present day..._

"This is amazing."

"Yeah. Is this really happening? I feel like I'm about to wake up from some crazy dream and be all sad and bummed out in about a minute."

Edward and I survey the empty Olympic rink where we— and everyone else— will skate for the entire world to see. No pressure.

Edward wraps a comforting arm around me as we stand in the center of it all, slowly turning to take it all in. we're whispering when we don't really have to, but it feels like sacred ground, at least for me. He leans over and whispers close to my ear and I shiver... from the cold, probably. "This is no dream, Bella. We made it. All the blood, sweat, and tears, all the waking up at the ass-crack of dawn when we were kids to fit in practice time before school... it's all lead to this. We're most definitely fucking here," he proclaims, a nervous smile forming on his lips. I mirror it, because I just can't _not_ smile when he smiles at me like that. Doesn't take the nerves away though. I'm one step away from a freak out.

"Holy shit! This place is a monster!"

Emmett. Edward's big brother and pseudo personal trainer bounds into the arena, his voice carrying all over the place. He pretends to be just some hockey jock, but Emmett not only has one of the most caring, warmest hearts, but he's also one of the smartest people I know. The guy graduated top of his class pre-Med at Michigan State while on their hockey team.

"Shit, look at you guys. You look like this place is about to swallow you whole. Don't pee yourselves or anything."

"Em," Edward groans before his brother grabs him in a chokehold and noogies his hair into a bigger mess than it already is.

"Just messin' with ya, bro. And Bella, you look as white as the fucking ice! Seriously, you guys are too good to be worrying about any of this. You got this in the bag.

"We have some heavy competition, Em," I remind him.

"Pffft. Who? The Russians? Fuck that noise." Edward manages to push his brother away and straightens.

"Did you see them at Worlds? They beat us by half a point, and the killed everyone at Russian Championships before that."

"Meh. I'm not really into the frou-frou stuff they do. Even though, that Irina's quite flexible, which I'm sure Edward knows all to well—"

Edward coughs loudly and turns a bright shade of red, though I can't tell if it's from embarrassment or being close to choking. Emmett whacks Edward on the back several times, brow tight with mock concern. Edward's eyes meet mine, and for the first time, I see uncertainty and dare I say, curiosity towards my reaction.

See, the sudden heat on my cheeks tells me I'm probably the same color. God knows why.

Irina Karetnikov. One half of Irina Karetnikov and Demitri Rodzyanko, Russian champions and favored to win gold.

I knew there had been a lot of flirting between the blond stick figure and Edward this past season, especially with Demetri and her training outside Seattle. Our paths had crossed quite a bit. I did not, however, imagine Edward would have any intimate knowledge of blondie's abilities.

Maybe that's what ticked me off at the moment. Edward and I have always been pretty close and open about almost everything personal. I was there when Tanya Denali broke his heart in ninth grade Bio and he'd called me all mopey and sad. He was there when I'd caught Jacob Black screwing Leah Clearwater— my sorority sister— in her bedroom as I was trying to return the sandals I'd borrowed the day before. Edward came over with Phish Food and let me cry into his Zeppelin shirt for hours.

There's not much we don't know about each other at this point. Until now, apparently.

"Emmett, you need to shut the fuck up. You don't know what the hell you're talking about," he shouts after him as Em brushes him off, making his way towards the exit. Bastard was snickering, no doubt loving the fact that he'd ruffled Edward's feathers.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah! See ya in a few. Mom wants us at the villa in thirty for lunch. You know how she hates lateness! See ya, Bella!" And with that, Em was gone, but my eyes hadn't left Edward's reddened face. I'd never felt so awkward around him, and I didn't like it one bit.

I decide to play it off and keep my voice controlled, nonchalant. "Well, someone's been busy." I start walking away and gasp in surprise when Edward's hand wraps around my elbow, forcing me to look at him. His expression is almost desperate. "Nothing happened. With Irina. Nothing happened," he repeats slowly, his eyes pleading. I don't know how to respond but I decide to ease his mind.

"Edward, you don't have to explain anything to me. What you do on your own time is your business—"

"Is that what you really think?" He sounds offended. "Look, It happened a few months ago. It was at a bar, we... Okay, so we kind of made out, but it wasn't anything. She wanted more, I pushed her away. She's not my type," he says in a rush as I gesture him to stop.

"Edward, stop. It's okay. You're a single guy. You have every right to do whatever you want. And yeah, we used to confide in each other more, but I get it. You and I are adults, we're not kids anymore. I'm with Peter, our lives have gotten more complicated..."

"I always have time for you, Bella. You know that."

"Yes, I know. Same here..." I hesitate. Should I tell him? A rush of spite enters my thoughts and the next words are out of my mouth before I can think about it.

"Peter proposed, Edward."

There's a long, heavy silence. I shiver, both from the cold space around us and the frost between us. When I venture to meet Edward's eyes, his face is unreadable, as if he hasn't heard me at all. I struggle to fill the horrible quiet with_ something_.

"Last night. He asked me last night. I wasn't really expecting it. I just thought... you should know." The words taper off and I don't know what to say anymore. When he finally speaks, it's a detached, flat sound. I hate it.

"What did you say?"

"I said, Peter asked me—"

"I heard that part," he snapped. "I mean, what did you say... to him?" His intensely dark green eyes search mine.

I swallow hard, and answer honestly. I don't look away.

"I told him I have to think about it."

"You have to think about it?"

"Y-yes?" I have no idea why that sounded more like a question, but Edward's recent behavior's got me all out of sorts.

"What's there to think about? You either love the guy or you don't."

"Well, it's a little more complicated than that, Edward. I have to think about what I should do after the Olympics, about what's the next logical step—"

"Logical step?" He chimes in, confused.

"Yes. We talked about this, Edward. We said we'd think about maybe retiring after this, didn't we?"

"Yes, I remember. But your reason was to finish school and maybe go to grad school."

"Well, Peter is suggesting I finish school and marry him. He says I wouldn't have to go to grad school because I wouldn't need to work —"

"Bella. Really? A Stepford wife? You're seriously considering this?"

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you think I told him I had to think about it? I'm not sold on giving up what I had planned."

"Then why are you even 'thinking about it'," he imitates my voice using air quotes. I want to slap him.

"He's my boyfriend, Edward. Of course I have to think about it. We've been together for a while, and he's been plenty patient with our schedule with all the traveling and practices."

"_He's_ been patient? Like he's doing _you_ a favor? Bella, do you know how ridiculous you sound?" His voice rises between us and I hate how I feel pulled apart. We've never been this way, I'm about to cry I'm so hurt. His height is imposing as we're mere inches apart as he suddenly towers over me in every way.

"Edward, why are you acting like this? Listen, let's step away a bit. We're obviously tired, and maybe a little anxious about being here. Let's just focus on what we have to do, and we'll talk about it more—"

"What's there to talk about, Bella?" He interrupts again, already walking away. No! This is not what I want.

"Edward..."

"No. The way I see it, you have nothing to think about, Bella. If you're even entertaining giving up on everything, on us, on your dreams, then I say you might as well say yes to him and be done with it. See you at lunch." He's already walked out of my reach and earshot and I've never felt so alone.

When I here the echo of the doors slamming shut on the far side of the arena, all the emotions of the day seem to implode within me as I crumble to the cold ice and cry.

.

.

.

**A quick shout out to Brighton Walsh who gave me the verb "whack." Twitter's an awesome and horrifying place. Find me there. DH_78**


	4. Chapter three

**No beta. All mistakes are mine. And this is just for fun, so be nice. And ragey guest reviewer... take deep breaths and chill out. It's just a story. You don't have to read it if you don't want to, love. ;)**

**SM owns everything, except this plot.**

* * *

Chapter 3

_After the Short Dance..._

Giddy. That's how it feels every time Edward and I skate a near perfect dance. The crowd can still be heard through the halls of the arena as we're escorted to our private rooms to cool off and pack up. Edward and I stare at each other silently and smile, although, things are still not quite right between us. And what's worse, I could totally feel it in our energy on the ice. We were just a little stiffer, just a little colder. There was uncertainty in our eyes every time they met even though there was no uncertainty in our dance. That, _that_, we can do with our eyes closed. Still in sync on the ice, although our balance had tipped slightly.

After our fight six days ago, we gave each other the silent treatment for the whole day. The last time that happened was when we were fourteen and we blamed each other for a failed routine at Juniors. But this wasn't a failed routine. This was a shift. This was a small tear in the tightly woven knit of our friendship. Although now, I don't even know what we are. Being an adult sucks.

But then during practice the next morning, Edward simply gathered me close and hugged the hell out of me, whispering he was sorry for being a dick. The feel of him warm and solid, smelling clean and Edward... that was a balm on my ever-anxious nerves, and my body relaxed immediately. I hugged him back. I didn't want to let go. Ever.

Then I looked into his eyes— those deep green eyes that know me so well and were now saying things I was afraid to admit for some time now.

That's when it hit me. Like those Looney Tunes cartoons with the anvil on the head and the stars and the little birds orbiting my skull.

I did the right thing with Peter. I couldn't marry him. I couldn't. That realization made my stomach drop at the time, but looking at Edward, I knew I made the right choice.

"You okay?" he'd said, concerned eyes roving all over my face. His grip on me tightened slightly. Could he possibly see the same thing I saw in him written all over my face?

I was confused. That's all. Too many mixed emotions with just being in Sochi at the Olympics— a dream that we both shared for so long. Of course there was bound to be high level feelings and anxieties. I could handle this, shelf this until I could analyze things clearly. Yes, that's what I would do.

I'd smiled and said, "Yes, I'm totally okay. I don't want to ever fight over stupid things again, though." Edward lifted one side of his mouth, which suddenly made my insides flutter, but again, I stomped on the implications of that feeling and had chosen to look ahead at the job we had to do, and I had to talk to Peter.

We were going to win gold. Irina and her perfect blonde hair be damned.

"Hey. You alright over there?" Edward asks, looking at me with a little grin of amusement as he absently takes off his skates and packs up our stuff in our duffles. I'm snapped out of my daydreaming and give him a small smile. "Yep. Totally okay. We kind of rocked it out there tonight, didn't we?" I look away and shrug on my jacket.

"Aside from my little slip up at the end there, I think we nailed it. Those scores are close though. The free dance has to be flawless." He stands and pulls his duffle and mine over his shoulder and takes a deep breath, like he does right before he has something to say. All kinds of warnings are going off in my head, and after the last four days of uncertain words and polite niceties, I know this can't go on forever.

"So, dinner with my folks and yours right? That's what Mom had mentioned earlier?"

Okay, not what I expected him to say. That deep breath was pretty damn deep.

"Um, yeah I think so. Alice had mentioned something about drinks without the parentals afterwards too. I think it's a good idea to loosen up a bit before tomorrow night, don't you?"

"Uh, sure. Is—" Edward pauses, causing me to look at his reflection in the mirror as I adjust my ponytail. "Is Peter coming along?" He finally asks.

See? _That's_ what the deep breath was for. I know my Edward.

My Edward. There goes my stomach again.

"Uh, actually," How do I say this? Do I just come out with it? How do I make this big deal not such a big deal? "Actually, he's on a flight back to the States right now."

"Oh? Why? Some big emergency down at Corporate? Shit, I'm sorry—" Edward looks down bashfully, raking his hands through his hair while still holding our bags with the other. He'd promised no more passive aggressive comments about Peter. But now we're here.

"No. He... well, the truth is. Well, I told him I couldn't marry him. We broke up."

His head snaps up and our eyes lock in the reflection once more, but this time I see something totally different looking back at me. A man uncertain. I could see something Edward was trying desperately to reign in. I couldn't even dare to name it.

After a long uncomfortable pause he finally asks, "Why?"

Yes, well isn't that the fifty-thousand dollar question.

I gather my mixed up thoughts and think of something safe to say. The truth is after I told Peter I couldn't marry him, I felt nothing. Even Peter was the picture of composure. He wasn't happy, his pride had been hurt. Why shouldn't I, or _any_ woman not want to marry a successful, young go-getter like him? He had the best of everything. Apparently, not what I really wanted or needed. So, we parted ways and he took the next flight out of Sochi. And you'd think I'd be sad or a mess. I wasn't. And I knew right then and there I'd made the right decision.

"I guess I just couldn't see myself married to him. You were right. He wanted a wife who could play the part. I wasn't it. I wouldn't have been happy. You were right."

Edward shakes his head slowly, inching closer to me as he drops the bags on the floor next to our feet, and suddenly the air in the room is too warm. Too warm.

"I don't want to be right, Bella. This was never about me wanting to be right. This has everything to do with seeing you happy. That's all I've ever wanted for you. I know have a crappy way of showing it and I know I act like a fucking juvenile some of the time, but you must know... you have to know that I... I care about you, Bella. You deserve better. You deserve everything you want." He inches even closer until he leans his head to kiss my forehead like he always does.

But it doesn't feel like it always does. My thoughts are scrambled.

"You okay?" He whispers, and I want to cry at seeing my best friend again in those words. "You need to talk, vent, cry, throw things? Maybe burn a Peter doll in effigy? I'd totally be down with that." He makes me break out in a laugh and we both break down into fits of giggles and snorts. It feels so damn good to do this again. To laugh with Edward— it's like someone opened the door and let the fresh air swirl around us.

When we finally settle down, he's smiling as he picks up our bags again, ushering me out with his warm hand at the small of my back... just like he always does.

"Let's go eat. I'm starving."

* * *

After dinner, Alice, Edward's little sister and my best gal pal, tells us all to be in the lobby in thirty so we can take the car service to a little lounge just down a few blocks. We'd walk, but it's a little cold and we're not really in the mood to walk amidst the tourists. I'm wearing nice skinny jeans and heeled boots and a black, long sleeved fitted sweater and a pretty scarf, a leather jacket finishes it off because yeah, it's a little chilly. Edward's in jeans that fit just right and a beige v-neck sweater and black jacket, hair perfectly out of control, as usual.

He's very handsome. No, I guess I could say it and be honest— he's hot. Like smokin'. I have grown up my entire life knowing he was easy on the eyes, watching the girls in school or on the skating circuit stare and flutter their lashes at him, giggling like idiots at every word out of his mouth. I'm aware of his appeal. Oh, how I am aware.

He smiles easy and wraps a protective arm around my waist. Innocent. I think. I mean, he's always done it, but then again there are things he's always done that now mean very different things to me. I need to yell at my brain to stop jumbling every thought and emotion into an unrecognizable ball of mush.

The bar or lounge or whatever isn't crazy full, thank God. It's been pretty much set up as an athletes only hangout, the bouncers at the door pretty strict about entry. I don't mind the fans usually, but tonight, I'm grateful I won't be hounded for autographs and pictures. I just want to relax and de-stress before tomorrow's free skate.

An hour in and Alice, Rose, Emmett's girlfriend and I are pretty happy on the dance floor, soaking up the relaxed vibe of the place. For a few songs it's just us but soon the boys, including Jasper, Alice's fiance, join us. Everyone pretty much pairs off and of course that leaves Edward and I as the default pair. In other, more innocent and platonic times, this would've been easy, second nature. Edward and I always had fun together with no danger of it ever crossing the line. We were best friends and skating partners, our families were extensions of our own blood ties. But now at this moment, I can acknowledge things are very, very different.

For one, we're both a little tipsy, or at least I think he is. I never drink enough to get totally drunk because I hate the feeling of not being in control of myself, but a beer or two never hurt. His eyes are bright and happy, which could be mistaken with affects of drinking a few or he could just be happy. It's been a while since I've seen him this relaxed and carefree. He takes me by the hand and twirls me around as we let loose with the upbeat music. This is us at our best, but I can't deny what I'm feeling now, especially when the music changes to something slower and sexy. Lights turn low and the base of the track fills the space with slow thumps coupled with strings and a woman's voice.

It's like I'm floating when Edward suddenly brings me to him, arm wrapped around my waist until there is no space between us. I can feel his stubble on my temple where his chin touches me, his warm breath creating ripples of goosebumps all over. I'm intoxicated by everything around me— the sounds, the smell of him, the feel of his body against mine, so very different from our composed choreographed touches on the ice.

There are no words between us, the loud music wouldn't allow us to say much anyway, but not much is needed right now. I feel myself slipping under his spell as he sways us against the beats, his thigh slightly parting me until our bodies are touching from the waist up. My arms find their way around his neck until my hands press him towards me. What the hell are we doing?

His hands splay wide around my ribcage traveling to my back. The song buries itself in my head and in my bones and I can't stop myself from resting my lips on the sliver of flesh right above the ridge of his collar, where shoulder meets neck. His skin is hot and I can't resist kissing him there. His body suddenly shudders and he stops our movements. He leans away slightly to find my eyes. His are fiercely dark under these dim lights but I can see something I saw before but denied until now— desire. Want. With the swirling strings and vocals of Portishead wrapping around us like a cloak, his lips are on mine and I give in.

Slow and deliberate, this is not a kiss of sudden, unguarded passion. This is a smoldering heated kiss that had been waiting in the wings day after day after weeks, maybe months. It's sure, _he's_ sure, and that's when I know with certainty that he wants me... _has_ wanted me, for God knows how long. This kiss holds promise of things to come, If only I let it. And, Lord, I know now I want it. Want him.

Want us.

.

.

.

* * *

**A/N: Next chapter will include the prologue among other things and I think this will have one more chapter after that with a short epi ;) Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, although I can't reply, know I read all of them and laugh at the ragey guest reviews too! It's good entertainment!**

**A couple of fic recs! I haven't done them in a while because I've been reading BOOKS! lol But as always, 2 of my favorite authors are tearing it up yet again.**

**TheFicChick's _Objects in Mirror Are Larger Than They Appear_... WOW. Not for the wusspervs, that's for sure. This might not be for everyone but I fully trust her and I love REALISTIC situations within relationships. You need to believe in forgiveness and hope for this imperfect E & B.**

**Rochelle Allison's _The Bitter, The Sweet_... SAWEET JEEZUZ. Tatted/Soccerward is all swoony/sexy and all sorts of yummy.**


End file.
